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Savage Impulses	By : TropicalFool Category: +A through F > Dragon Age (all) > Dragon Age (all) Views: 5161 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Dragon Age & all characters are owned by BioWare & EA, not me. I make no money from this story.

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I threw my arm around Fenris and we made our way through the still open door. I slammed it closed and pushed a large sideboard in front of the damnable portal, to Fenris' chuckles. I didn't want to be disturbed for at least Varric's few days, and if I could figure a way to get food in, weeks sounded better.
I was staggering with fatigue and the tail end of all that I had drank. It had been long enough that the hangover was starting to pulse behind my eyes. I made my way to the study and collapsed in a chair by the table, supporting my poor head in my hands.
"You will stay," he said. I wasn't sure from his flat delivery if it was a question or a statement.
"You could move into the estate," I countered.
He shook his head, so I asked, "Why not? There is more than enough room and the floors are tiled, the curtains intact." It was half tease, but with an underlying truth. The mansion had been all but a ruin when he moved in, and, except for this comfortable study and, I presumed, a bedroom somewhere that I had never seen, it remained a wreck slowly decaying. Even the entrance hall had debris strewn about.
He looked thoughtful, his mouth working as he stared at the ceiling, then looking directly at me, he said, "It is haunted, that house of yours. Perhaps not literally, but your family clings there. I could not abide it. I shall stay here. Perhaps it seems strange to you, but I find this place comforting."
I nodded, and I did understand. It was true, Leandra and Bethany, long dead, still occupied the estate. Even Carver had a place there in a small shrine in mother's untouched room. It was also, more than I would have wished, a center for my business. Supplicants were likely to show up on the doorstep at any time, many contacts knew to leave messages there, and Aveline and her guard had the uncomfortable habit of arriving at random moments. The ruined mansion was looking more appealing by the moment.
I think I replied, probably something inarticulate like, "Ummarghum…" but that was the last I remember until I awoke, my head on the table. A small pillow had been placed under it and a soft blanket thrown over my shoulders. The burn on my chest was throbbing, competing with the pounding behind my left eye. I could have had Anders heal the burn, but I wanted it both for the scar and the current pain. It was a reminder of how close I had come to not being. I'd dreamed of being Tranquil, cut off the the Fade where I lived while in that dream. Of having awareness, but no will. The memory still with me, I shivered slightly, then opened my eyes, squinting even in the dim light of Fenris' sanctuary.
I pulled myself up, leaning back in the chair and running my fingers through my hair. It was an interesting way to start a new life: naked, wounded, hungover, exhausted, ferociously hungry, painfully lustful and insecure.
Fenris sat across from me, fully dressed, a cup of his herbal tea steaming before him. Seeing me awake, he rose and placed a mug beside me saying, "Drink. It will help the head at least."
I raised it to my lips, inhaling the woodsy scent, and tentatively taking a sip. There was an immediate easing of the ache in my head. I gulped the rest, burning my tongue; a small price to pay for the result. It was a miracle potion and I wondered that I had been able to live all those years without it. Not only did it kill the pain, but my head cleared and my energy returned.
Shaking my head in wonder, I said, "Thank you. I think I may survive now."
He smiled, then stood again. He wore a soft, blood crimson colored tunic that was closely fitted to his narrow chest. Slowly he began unlacing the thong that ran its length diagonally, the eyelets gleaming silver against the rich fabric. He never took his eyes from me as his hands worked, watching for a reaction. I was mesmerized, lightly licking my lips in anticipation.
He shrugged out of the garment, his gaze still on mine. I felt that I should not think so, but the lyrium burned patterns, cupping each curve and accentuating each angle, were beautiful. Danarius had a fine sense of aesthetics despite his many shortcomings.
As he stood there, I could see the tip of his cock peeking from the waistband of his tights. I gasped and allowed my hand to creep under the table. The corners of his lips turned up; he knew exactly what I was doing.
The tights were laced on each side against his hip bones, He freed one side, then the other, bending to pull the legs off before giving me more of the view he knew I desired. When he was naked, he stood before me, completely at ease, his decorated erect penis standing proud and straight. I thought of that one time, so long ago, when I had held it in my mouth and I salivated. I took my time to enjoy the sight of his body as my hand worked happily.
When I stood, he moved to me, holding my head roughly and kissing me with urgency, his tongue darting and insistent. The enthusiasm of my response could not have been greater. Dreams of years coalesced in that moment.
When the kiss had run its course, as such things will despite our most fervent desires that they should never end, he grasped me by the shoulders, the grip tight enough to hurt, and pushed me away the length of his arms. I recognized the movement and put my hands on each side of his neck, my arms slightly bent to accommodate my greater reach, and lowered my head like a bull, pushing into him.
It was a classic wrestlers' stance, one designed to allow evaluation of an opponent's strength before the match began. I had height, weight and reach. He had strength and quickness. It made for an intriguing pairing.
I pushed harder, then let up, throwing him off balance for a moment. As he fell into me, I rushed him, lunging and shoving him toward the wall a few feet behind. He broke the hold and slipped away, but I was committed. I slammed into the wall, the force of my landing jolting through my body. I shook my head and turned, dropping into a crouch.
He was standing calmly, just out of reach, the corner of his mouth turned up in scorn. Careful to give no telltale tensing, I launched myself at him, knocking him to the ground. I had expected to be able to pin his shoulders or hands, but as I landed on top of him, he twisted his legs around me and flipped me onto my stomach. I climbed to hands and knees, growling as he leapt on top of my back. I felt his hot breath on my ear, then he bit, drawing blood.
In that moment all of the tension, years of yearning, released and I gasped. The pent-up desire, now set free, washed over me in wave after wave. My heart was pounding, my body was bathed in sweat, and I could only breath in short panicked gulps.
When I could, I climbed to my feet. Fenris was watching, his head to the side and his expression speculative. "You are too easy, Hawke," he pronounced. It was a well chosen challenge, one that hit home. I wanted him so badly that I had allowed my technique to slip.
I walked toward him slowly. When he was within reach, I grabbed him in a bear hug, lifting him from his feet. As I squeezed, I heard his ribs creaking. In that moment, he shot his hand out and racked three deep furrows in my back. Surprised more than hurt, I dropped him and he danced away.
I stared at him dumbfounded, my mouth hanging open, and I'm sure I looked very stupid. He narrowed his eyes and said, "Did I miss a rule? Is there to be no blood?"
I thought about this for a moment, then shook my head, saying, "Blood is fine. It just surprised me, that's all." I realized that there had been an unspoken rule with my other lovers that we wrestled only, but there was no reason that things should be so between Fenris and me.
He nodded once, solemnly. Holding out a slender arm and examining it, he said, "I would then ask for a rule. Broken bones tend to shorten the play and limit what comes after."
My eyes widened as I considered. That immense strength of his was contained in a rather delicate elven frame, something that I had totally overlooked. I could hug Sven with all my strength for days on end and make no impression, but it would be all too easy to break Fenris' ribs… or arms or legs.
I felt stupid and ashamed, allowing my head to drop in apology. Like the experienced fighter he was, he seized the advantage and pushed me hard against the wall with a hand on my neck. His mouth met mine, his tongue aggressive and needy, probing deep.
My arms encircled him again, but this time I was careful to moderate my strength to the point where I knew it hurt, but there was no real danger. Releasing my neck and, to my regret, my mouth, he reached behind and twisted my thumb. I was thrown, to land heavily face down, amazed and impressed. That was a move I wanted to learn.
He was on me and in me before I could raise myself. It was rough, lubricated only by our sweat. He slapped me smartly, saying, "Rise." I pushed my shoulders up first, then let my hips follow until he was kneeling behind me.
"How strong are you Hawke?" he asked. "Can you wait for what you want until I have what I need, or will you succumb, give in, give up on this dream you've so long held?"
I knew exactly what he meant. I had almost come when he entered me, but I wanted more, so much more. Could my control hold? It was a good question, and not one I had an answer for.
He chuckled quietly. "We shall see, I suppose, but I would be pleased if you are able to restrain yourself. However, tonight, my needs come first."
So saying, he thrust deeper. He had used the interval to add spit to the sweat and slid in easier. Although he was not as large as my former lovers, he knew exactly how to manipulate his long thin organ. He used his hand to hold the tip down just within my opening, and massage that secret place of intense sensation. He played me like he would a fine lute, taking his time, making sure that each string was perfectly plucked. I was groaning and begging, but had somehow maintained that precious control. He reached around and gently caressed my stiff shaft; an exquisite cruelty.
With a grunt, he then began to thrust in earnest, slamming into me, his hand grasping my hips and pulling me strongly toward him. I could feel my orgasm pushing the very limits of my being and thought I was done for, but I bit the inside of my cheek and shook my head hard, looking for that last bit of discipline.
When he came it was glorious. I could feel him within me, feel his joy and his release. I was breathing in great weeping gasps, still trying, with growing desperation, to hold back.
He fell limp onto my bloody back, his hands idly tracing patterns on my arms. The interlude gave me a chance to regroup, regain my will.
As he slid from my back to kneel beside me. I felt his fist in the dimple above my hips, wetting itself in the small pool of sweat that had gathered there. He said, "You impress me, Hawke. But then you always have. Are you sure, now that the time has come?"
Was he insane? Well, yes, very possibly, likely actually. He had wrapped his other arm around my hips, between my cock and my belly, the limb rock hard and unyielding. When I cried out, "Yes! Maker yes!" he did not hesitate, but slammed into me. This time there were no coy fingers. Only his massive strength, and that I was pinned between his two arms, allowed him to force his way in. Despite having been opened by the previous play, I felt like a virgin on my first night, only more so. The breath was knocked from me and I saw stars in front on my eyes.
Primed as I was, where the merest touch could have set me off, I was proud, and am to this day, that I held out until the second stroke. With that thrust however, I came apart. It seemed that my being imploded, to shrink to nothing but that interface between he and I, and then exploded, shattering me. I felt as if I were throwing off more heat than Anders could ever pray for, more light than Fenris' lyrium could possibly provide. Everything that I knew about myself ended and I was reborn. There was simply no more of me left, I was a creature of pleasure and lust fulfilled, replete.
When I came back to myself I was laying face down. I could feel my left hand being gently explored, the pads of the fingers pushed in, released, then pushed again. I raised my head so that I could lay on my cheek, a less nose punishing position, and looked up at him. As cool as ever, Fenris let his green eyes rest on mine and said, "So it begins."
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Savage Impulses